


Lost Things

by thebaddestwolf



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e11 Fear Her, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Reunion Fic, fear her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3422606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebaddestwolf/pseuds/thebaddestwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the walls between the universes closed for good, Rose wasn’t the only one trapped on the other side. While she and the Doctor desperately try to get back to one another, it’s something else entirely that brings them together. Reunion fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tkross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tkross/gifts).



> Beta: kahki820

Rose collapsed on the bed without bothering to take off her shoes, too mentally exhausted by another wasted day at Torchwood to worry about getting dirt on the duvet.

The first test of the dimension jump prototype had failed miserably, shattering all the windows on the 27th floor and her hopes of getting back to the Doctor along with them. Working on the project had been the only thing that kept her going during her first few months trapped in this twin universe, and the thought of starting from scratch made her feel as despondent as when she’d watched the Doctor fade away on that Nordic beach.

She rolled onto her stomach and pressed her face into the pillow, closing her eyes against tears that wouldn’t come -- she’d already shed enough for one lifetime. A moment later she heard a knock on the door and, when she didn’t respond, a soft creak.

“Can I come in, sweetheart?” The bed shifted before her mum had even finished asking. “Pete told me what happened. Made you a cuppa.”

Rose sighed and sat up, forcing a smile and taking the steaming mug. She kept her eyes on the milky tea as she blew across the surface, trying not to think about how the ripples look like waves. Jackie shifted closer and rubbed her back until Rose gave in, shoulders sagging as she rested her cheek on her mum’s shoulder.

“I was so sure it would work,” she said, voice cracking. “Nothing went the way it was supposed to, and after all those months of planning. I’m really stuck here, aren’t I?”

Jackie took the mug from Rose’s hands and placed it on the nightstand, then wrapped her arms around her daughter in a hug as tight as she could around her growing belly -- only a few more months, now.

“You don’t just give up -- you told me that once. Said you learned it from him, you did. Something about taking a stand and having the guts to do what’s right.”

“Yeah.” Rose sniffed. “But he’s gone now, so what’s the point? I’m never gonna see him again.”

“Oi, I don’t want to hear you talk like that.” Jackie pulled away and gripped her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Darling, look at me. I know that man had a big impact on you, but you were a fighter long before he came around, yeah? I’ve never seen you give up on something once you set your mind to it, and you’re sure as hell not starting now.”

Rose bit her lip and nodded, then tucked her head under her mum’s chin.

“For all I know he’s forgotten about me,” she whispered, a chill running through her as she voiced her greatest fear for the first time.

“Nonsense.” Jackie huffed and kissed her forehead. “I’ve seen a lot of impossible things since the Doctor came ‘round, but him forgetting about you? No. No, that’s unthinkable.”

Her mum held her for a little while and then left to go help with dinner, still unwilling to let the housekeeper do all of the work. Rose changed into her pajamas and sat in bed, staring out the window as she sipped the lukewarm tea.

A white flower floated on a breeze just outside the windowpane before falling toward the ground. It was beautiful, but she frowned and looked away from yet another reminder of how different this universe was from home, where no trees bloomed in winter.

***

The Doctor’s arms ached from the boxes he was carrying as he walked away from the Powell Estate for the last time.

After sorting out the situation with Donna and the Racnoss, he’d started popping by every so often to collect as many of Rose and Jackie’s things as he could carry back to the TARDIS. Though it was extra work, he always parked in the courtyard; it didn’t feel right, somehow, to land the ship in their empty flat.

The boxes in his arms contained the last of their belongings, or the ones with meaning anyways -- a few mismatched pieces of china and a couple dozen of Rose’s books. He had intended to gather all of their things in one go the first time he worked up the strength to come back, but after lugging the red backpack -- still full of her dirty clothes -- to the TARDIS, he locked himself in his study, determined to find a way back to her.

After days of unsolved equations and unbroken rules of physics he piloted the ship away, launching himself into one alien conflict after another until he worked up the courage to return to 21st century London. And so the pattern repeated, time after time, until he filled the very last box.

He deposited it in the storage room the TARDIS had built next to her bedroom, which he couldn’t bear to enter since she’d been lost. Running a hand through his hair, he plodded toward the study, resolved to work through the same unsolvable equations one more time.

Yawning, he paused outside his bedroom door, but decided to continue on -- he would only dream of her.

The Doctor had nearly reached the study when an insistent clanging interrupted his melancholy thoughts, and it took him a moment to recognize it as the mainframe’s alarm bells. Lengthening his stride, he followed the noise to the console room and frowned at the flashing monitors.

There was some sort of disturbance -- sentient beings in distress -- in a corner of the universe he’d visited recently and didn’t much care to go back to. He turned off the alarms and began to walk away, but paused before he crossed into the corridor.

Rose would have wanted him to go.

Rubbing his eyes, he stepped up to the console and threw the lever to rev the rotors, then began punching in the coordinates on the screen. He would help these creatures, and then he’d find a way to get her back.

***

Bank holidays in this universe encompassed Fridays as well as Mondays, so Rose had four days to wallow in the failure of the dimension jump. Her mum and Pete had tried to get her to go with them on a spa trip to the Scottish highlands, which apparently contained better hot springs than Iceland, but eventually they gave up and let her stay home.

Well, something like home, anyway.

She tried to keep herself busy, reorganizing her closet and catching up on old field reports, but through it all that hopeless feeling sat heavy in her stomach. It was growing dark as she kneeled on her bedroom floor, files and paperwork spread out around her, when a movement outside the window caught her eye.

A white flower floated by, followed by another, and then another. She scowled and turned back to the report she had been reading, but after a few sentences she heard a soft clink against the glass.

Huffing, she stood and walked to the window, eyes widening at what she saw.

Her room looked onto the mansion’s sprawling back garden, featuring a swimming pool, manicured lawns, and a smattering of trees. The branches of each tree were bare, having shed their leaves months back, save the towering oak nearest to Rose’s window.

It was in full bloom, with gorgeous white flowers blossoming from the tiniest twig all the way down to the trunk. After a moment she realized the flowers weren’t affixed to each branch so much as hovering just above it.

She was shaken from her confusion when the clink sounded again and she noticed a tendrilled flower floating just outside the window, making itself known. Without hesitating Rose undid the lock and hoisted up the pane, shivering at the gust of wintery air that followed.

The flower glided inside and she instinctively held out her palm, where it settled and transformed into a speckled pod.

Rose shuddered as the recognition hit her, then exhaled as soft comfort spread from her hand to the rest of her body, warming her despite the chilly breeze.

“I know you,” she said to the pod, eyes brimming with tears. “You’re far from home, too.”

***

A little while back, or a few years in the future -- depending on how you look at it -- the Doctor and Rose weren’t very far from home at all.

Hanging her denim jacket in the closet and taking out her pigtails, Rose watched him out of the corner of her eye; it wasn’t unusual for him to join her in her room at the end of the day, to decompress and relive their adventure, but tonight he seemed to linger.

When she came out of the loo, all ready for bed, he was still there, dragging her stick of concealer across the back of his hand.

“Hey, that’s expensive.” She laughed and snatched it from him. “I’m knackered, gonna turn it.” The Doctor nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, and she smirked. “Wanna join me?”

He grinned at her, already stepping out of his shoes.

“Could do with a lie down, I suppose,” he said. “Only for a little bit.”

Once they were under the duvet, lights turned down low, Rose rolled onto her side to find him already facing her.

“You were brilliant today.” He reached across to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then let his hand drop on the mattress between them. “Didn’t much fancy being two-dimensional. Bit limiting, that.”

Rose giggled, pressing her lips together.

“Oh I dunno -- Chloe was kind enough to draw the TARDIS, too. All she had to do was add some stars and planets and you could’ve gotten by.”

“Nah,” he said, turning onto his back. “Something else still missing.”

He flashed a shy smile at her and she grinned back.

“I remember the feeling.”

Rose scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder, sighing when she felt his cheek against her hair. She had really, truly thought she’d lost him this time. She expected she’d feel angry toward the Isolus for what it had done, but when she thought of why it had acted the way it did she only felt compassion.

 _While they're happy, they can feed off each others love,_ the Doctor had said of the Isolus and its siblings. _Without it, they're lost_.

“You never told me how you did it, by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“Find the Isolus pod and help it find its way into the Olympic torch.”

“Oh, right.” She inched closer and hugged his arm to her chest. “Knew they traveled on heat, like you said, and worked it out that it’d burrowed itself inside the fresh pothole. Then I, um, borrowed a council pick axe and broke it free.”

The Doctor chuckled, shoulder shaking beneath her cheek.

“Rose Tyler wielding a stolen pick axe -- can’t believe I missed it!”

“Not stolen, borrowed.” She giggled and poked his ribs. “I gave it back.”

“Right, course.”

“Anyway, I sort of talked the Isolus back into the pod and something the news announcer said helped me to put it together -- that the torch was more than heat. It represented hope and love and all that. And suddenly I was filled with, dunno, an overwhelming feeling of comfort and gratitude, I guess, and I knew the Isolus understood what it had to do.”

The Doctor shifted and Rose thought he was done with cuddling, but an instant later his arm wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her closer.

“Sounds nice,” he said quietly, lips moving against her forehead. “That feeling.”

Rose closed her eyes and nuzzled her nose against his neck.

“It did,” she whispered, feeling sleep waft over her. “Felt just like this.”

The Doctors legs were tangled up with hers when she woke the next morning, his slow breath heavy on the back of her neck. She covered his arm around her waist with her own and blinked back tears.

She knew, even then, that it was the calm before the storm.

***

Rose smiled down at the Isolus in her hand.

“How’d you get here then? Thought you traveled on solar winds and that.”

She stared at it for a moment and then laughed at herself, feeling foolish for expecting it to answer back. Then she heard her mobile buzz on the nightstand.

When she picked it up, though, there was no sign of an incoming call -- instead it appeared the pixels of her background image (a sunny field with wild flowers, the default picture she never bothered to change) had rearranged to form a blue police box.

Rose looked at the Isolus, then back at the screen, remembering how it had used ionic power to manipulate Chloe’s drawings in 2012.

“That’s how you got here? The TARDIS?” The Isolus teetered in her hand and the image flashed on the screen. “But that doesn’t make any sense -- the TARDIS hasn’t been here since before we met you.”

The Isolus stilled, almost looking defeated, and the pixels on the mobile screen rearranged themselves to their original form. Rose sighed, then yawned.

“It’s getting late.” She glanced out the window at the oak tree, now covered in familiar speckled pods. “You lot like heat, right? Think your brothers and sisters want to come inside?”

A feeling of gratitude filled her mind and she walked to the window, finding the cluster of Isolus already waiting to come in.

“Wow, good news travels fast.”

Laughing, she lifted the pane open and smiled as they drifted inside. Nearly 100 Isolus floated about her room, taking a slow lap before nestling near the radiator by her bed. The Isolus in Rose’s hand joined its siblings and, clustered together and emitting a soft hum, she could tell they were content.

She closed the window and got ready for bed, sneaking glances at the Isolus as she went about her routine. She waited to feel uneasy, fostering lost alien children in her bedroom, but ultimately she was thankful for the company. It was like they understood what she was going through because they’d been there, too.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered as she turned out the light.

For the first time in this universe, Rose fell asleep instantly.

***

The sun was dying -- he had burned it up, after all.

The Doctor frowned at the screens on the console, wondering why the distress signal had come from here, of all places.

After a few moments of searching he saw a frenzied group of beings a little ways off and moved the TARDIS closer to take more accurate readings. Through the exterior cameras he could see them, graceful flower-like beings swimming through space.

“Oh, I know you!” he said, smile spreading across his face.

He jogged to the door and threw it open, grinning as thousands of Isolus streamed inside, spinning around the console like a flowery cyclone. The monitor flashed and he took a look, brows rising.

“Well, aren’t you clever.” He chuckled, eyes glued to the changing images on the screen, and then his face grew serious. “Wait wait wait -- tell me again.”

After the Isolus communicated their message via the console monitor for the fifth time the Doctor turned away, running his hands through his hair and muttering to himself.

Finally stepping back to the console, he took an unsteady breath and nodded.

“Right,” he said. “Go on, then.”

***

Rose woke suddenly and it took her a moment to get her bearings -- it was still the middle of the night, but somehow her room was glowing.

The Isolus had shed their pods and were hovering near the ceiling, bobbing gently above her bed like incandescent petals floating on water.

“What’s happening?”

She sat up and stared as they began to swirl, creating a bright whirlpool. It was beautiful, the way they danced with their tendrils streaming, and while Rose knew she should be concerned she couldn’t help but share their apparent joy.

Then, without warning, they darted toward the window and broke through the glass, streaking out toward the oak tree. She ran to the window, shivering against the cold and gaping as they formed a circle above the branches and froze, going eerily stilled.

Rose pulled on her dressing gown, unsure of what to do.

Then she heard a familiar, groaning whir.

Breath caught in her chest, eyes glued open, she stared at the spot below the Isolus where she saw a flicker of deep blue. It faded but then it came again, stronger this time, and distinctly rectangular. It faded again but appeared an instant later, and now she could make out the flashing light and painted wood paneling, the pulsing sound of the rotors even louder.

She barely remembered sprinting down the long, dark hallways of the Tyler Estate and thundering down the stairs. It wasn’t a conscious decision so much as instinct, a homing beacon sparking and tugging her to where she belonged.

By the time she ran outside, barefoot on the frozen ground, the TARDIS looked completely solid in front of her. The door slowly creaked open and Rose covered her mouth with her hand.

The Doctor stepped outside, eyes wide and locked on hers. It seemed neither of them could move and, though barely three feet separated them, it was as if the void and universe walls still stood in their way.

“Is it really you?” Rose asked, tear slipping down her cheek.

The Doctor noded and opened his mouth, then closed it again. Hesitantly, as if not to tempt the delicate framework that brought them together, they each took a step forward.

Swallowing back a whimper, Rose lifted her right hand and reached toward his face. She expected him to fade away, to tell her he was just an image but, this time, her fingers felt the firmness of his cheek.

The Doctor leaned into her touch, smiling at her through glossy eyes. An instant later she was in his arms, lifting her feet off the grass as he spun her around and around, glowing Isolus orbiting above them.

“Rose,” the Doctor whispered, nuzzling her cheek when he finally set her down. “Rose.”

“Can’t believe it’s you.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and took a shaky breath. “God, Doctor.”

Tucking her head under his chin, she clung to him and kept her eyes squeezed shut, sure she would wake up at any moment. Then the wind blew and she shivered.

“Come on,” he said, voice hoarse. “Let’s get you inside.”

***

The Doctor led Rose to the library, keeping his arm wrapped around her shoulder. She didn’t let hers drop from his waist, either.

They didn’t speak until he got her settled on the sofa by the fire, worn quilt on her lap. He sat next to her and laced their fingers together, watching her as she ran her free hand over the faded fabric.

“My nan made this,” she said quietly. “Thought I’d never see it again. You went back for it?”

She turned to him and he nodded, shrugging his shoulders.

“Saved most of your stuff, actually. You know, just in case.”

Rose smiled and squeezed his hand. She opened her mouth to speak when a faint clattering sounded in front of them.

“Ah, looks like someone made you a cuppa. She’s missed you.” The Doctor picked up the mug of tea that had appeared on the coffee table and handed it to Rose. She blew on it and took a sip -- something the Doctor had seen her do a hundred times -- something he thought he’d never see again. “So have I.”

“Me too.” She grinned and took another sip before setting it back down. “You have no idea.”

Rose cuddled into his side, sighing as she felt his arms close around her. Part of her wanted to stay in this suspended bliss, snuggling and drinking tea and discussing nothing consequential, but, after everything they’d been through, she needed to know that it was real.

Keeping her arounds around him, she pulled back enough to see his face.

“What’s happening? I mean…” She swallowed, wishing her voice didn’t sound so thin. “How did you get here?”

The Doctor squinted at her, mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh come on, Rose Tyler -- surely you’ve worked that out by now.”

Her heart stuttered at the sound of him saying her name and, if she’d had a guess as to what happened before, it certainly was gone from her mind now. She giggled and shook her head.

“Stupid ape, remember? Go on, I know you’re dying to tell me the tale of how your brilliant Time Lord brain figured the whole thing out.”

“Well, I would.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “But, unfortunately, I didn’t do anything -- you did.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“Do you remember 2012?”

Rose nudged his side. “Of course.”

“Tell me about the Isolus.”

“Alright.” She bit her lip and sat up straighter. “The Isolus children -- thousands of them -- travel together through space as they grow up and, um, play sort of virtual games together -- that’s how the one who got separated animated Chloe’s drawings.”

“That’s right,” the Doctor said, squeezing her shoulder. “Go on.”

“Okay, um. Oh! They travel on solar winds and that’s why the one that got lost -- because of a solar flare or something -- was attracted to the freshly filled pothole on Chloe’s street. Heat source.”

“Brilliant. And here I was thinking you’d forgotten about me.”

The Doctor cupped her jaw and ran his thumb along her cheek, fighting back a smirk as her skin tinged pink. Rose blinked up at him and exhaled quietly.

“I worried the same thing.”

“What? Me forget about you?” He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her temple, and when he began to pull away their eyes locked. Rose’s gaze fell from his eyes to his lips and he wet them subconsciously, noticing her do the same. His hearts thudded in his chest and he panicked, clearing his throat.

“Anyway,” he said, keeping his eyes on the quilt. “Heat was what attracted the Isolus to the pothole, but do you remember why it latched on to Chloe Webber?”

The Doctor glanced at Rose, worried she’d feel awkward from whatever had passed between them, but her brow was knit in concentration.

“They’re, oh what’s the word -- empathetic beings. It was drawn to Chloe because she felt alone, too.” She frowned and fiddled with a button on the Doctor’s shirt. “So the Isolus was drawn to me because I was feeling lonely but how did it get here in the first place? It wasn’t just any Isolus -- it was Chloe’s, I could feel it. They remembered me.”

“Now that’s where I come in,” the Doctor said. “Back when, well, the last time I saw you, I had to use the strength of a sun -- a supernova -- to harness enough energy so we could say goodbye before the universe closed off for good. Little did I know that our Isolus family was nearby.”

Rose’s eyes widened.

“Let me guess -- by mucking about you unintentionally created a solar flare and they got swept up by the current?”

“Eh, more or less, yeah. Though I wouldn’t call burning up the remaining energy of a celestial object just to say goodbye to my… my… to you _mucking about_.”

“That’s true,” she said, reaching for his hand. “But you have to admit, your heroic actions having unintended consequences is very _you_.

“Fair enough.” The Doctor chuckled. “But, for once, the unintended consequence worked in our favor. Because, you’re right, I mistakenly created a solar flare and some Isolus were propelled through the remaining open cracks to Pete’s world -- but most of them managed to stay behind.”

“Okay…” Rose said. “And I’m guessing you found them, since you know all this.”

“Exactly! Or, more accurately, they found me.” The Doctor grinned and shifted on the sofa to face her and took both of her hands in his. “All along I thought, once the walls between the universes closed for good, that nothing could pass between them, but I was wrong. There’s one thing that can still get through, one thing that transcends time and space -- _love_.”

Rose’s breath hitched, eyes welling, and he squeezed her hands. “How do you mean?” She sniffed.

“Somehow, against the laws of the universe, the separated Isolus could still communicate with each other. They remembered us and sensed our despair and the ones on this side found you, while the ones on the other side reached out to me. Then they worked together and used their ionic power to weaken the barriers _just enough_ for the TARDIS to slip through. All so I could get back to you.”

She gasped, sob catching in her throat, but she smiled through her tears. Brushing the quilt off her lap, Rose sat on her heels and looped her arms around his neck. The Doctor’s breath caught and he instinctually rested his hands on her waist.

“Doctor?” she whispered.

“Yeah?” He let his eyes fall closed and leaned in, feeling her breath on his cheek.

“That’s the most convoluted ‘I love you’ I’ve ever heard.”

He chuckled, nuzzling her nose with his own. “But it’s true.”

“I know.”

She was waiting for him and, this time, he wouldn’t let time slip through his fingers like grains of Nordic sand.

Their lips were so close he barely had to move to kiss her -- a slight tilt of his chin was all it took. Her mouth was soft and warm, better than he’d ever imagined, and for the millionth time in the last 20 minutes it was the happiest he’d ever been in all his lives.

The Doctor kissed her slowly as he wrapped his arms around her back to pull her closer, fingers tightening around her dressing gown. Then Rose made this sound, a sort of cross between a sigh and a gasp, and suddenly the kiss became wetter, open mouths giving way to shy tongues.

Somehow she wound up in his lap, clinging to the lapels of his jacket, driving him spare with her tongue and the occasional tug of teeth. She sucked on his bottom lip, making the Doctor groan, and the next thing he knew she was turning away, panting and giggling.

“What’s so funny?” he said, trying his best not to pout.

“Nothing, nothing.” She grinned at him and smoothed her fingers across her lips. “It’s all just so surreal -- you being here… me sitting in your lap.”

The Doctor squeezed her waist and she squirmed, laughing into his neck. They stayed like that for a little while, arms around each other, until the Doctor felt Rose tense.

“How long..” she started, then cleared her throat. “How long are you here?”

“Long as you like,” he said. “Well, of course the TARDIS will have to get home eventually, but I thought- well, if you wanted to, you could…”

Rose smirked at him, tongue at the corner of her smile.

“Come back?”

He beamed. “Yeah.”

She threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed the side of his neck.

“The Isolus can weaken the walls again?” she asked, voice muffled.

“Yep! The ones that got stuck on this side are here for good, I’m afraid -- they can work with their siblings on the other side to hold the door open for us, but there’s no one to hold it for them, so to speak. But they’ve indicated they can help us travel back and forth every so often, so we can pop in to visit Jackie now and again.”

“And the universe won’t implode?”

“Because of Jackie?” Rose shoved his shoulder and he laughed. “No, it won’t implode. The Isolus use the ionic energy in a way that doesn’t weaken the walls between universes -- just makes them more porous, in a sense.”

“Brilliant.” Rose yawned. “And the Isolus -- will they be okay separated like this?”

“Oh, they’ll be alright.” The Doctor lifted Rose off his lap and took her hand, leading her out of the library. “They’re not alone anymore.”

***

It was a little eerie that Rose’s room on the TARDIS was exactly the same as she had left it on that fateful day, but she was too exhausted and elated to care.

She shrugged off her dressing gown as the Doctor removed his shoes and jacket before they both climbed into bed. The lights dimmed and Rose rested her cheek on his chest, melding into him as his arms closed around her.

“Just have to wait for mum and Pete to come back from their spa weekend,” she said, voice already heavy with sleep. “Then let’s go home.”

The Doctor rubbed her back and Rose fought against drowsiness, because despite how tired she was, she wanted to spend every possible moment with him.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” he said. “Promise.”

She had nearly succumbed to unconsciousness when she remembered that the one thing that could pass through universes had yet to pass her lips.

“Doctor?” She propped herself on her elbow to look at him.

“Rose?”

“It’s true for me, too.”

“I know,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “You told me before, remember? When I was too slow to say it back.”

“I remember, but this is different.”

“How so?”

She kissed him again and settled back against him, listening to the echoing beats of his hearts.

“Because then, I thought I’d lost you. But tonight…”

Her breath caught and the Doctor held her tightly as his hearts swelled.

“Tonight,” he said, voice faltering, “is a night for lost things being found.”


End file.
